


We'll Take A Cup Of Kindness Yet

by Winnywriter



Series: Prompt Stories [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnywriter/pseuds/Winnywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean invites his co-worker Castiel to the office New Year's Eve party. He almost regrets it, until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Take A Cup Of Kindness Yet

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on Tumblr. Title from Auld Lang Syne. (aka that song you sing on New Year's that nobody knows the words to.)

Okay, so maybe inviting Castiel to this party hadn't been the best of ideas, but Dean was determined not to let himself regret it.

He inwardly cringed as Castiel tried – and failed magnificently – to dance, and _outwardly_ cringed when the only result was him spilling his drink on Jeff from Accounting. Of course the guy apologized a mile a minute, and Jeff was a nice enough dude that he just waved him away while he half-heartedly accepted them, turning and leaving when poor Castiel tried valiantly to wipe the sticky cocktail off of Jeff's tie with a crumpled napkin.

It was like watching a car accident: hypnotically catastrophic, and he couldn't look away.

Castiel's shoulders slumped and he rubbed a hand over his eyes as the crowd formed a bubble around him, everyone pointedly staying at least a foot away from him as they went on celebrating. Finally, Dean could take no more, and he stepped up to the guy, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Let me get you another drink,” he said.

Castiel sighed. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Nah, it's fine.” He patted Cas on the back with a grin. “Just don't take it on the dance floor, huh?” 

* * *

They went to the kitchen where Dean poured Cas another cocktail, and when Cas took a sip he winced. Dean grinned a bit sheepishly.

“Too strong?” he asked.

“Just a bit,” Cas said, coughing down his drink.

“Sorry. Like my drinks on the strong side. Guess it's just force of habit. But hey, it's a party, right?”

Cas eyed the drink in his hand before shrugging and taking another sip. He grimaced again, but less noticeably this time.

“I guess I should thank you,” he said as the two of them sat down at the kitchen counter. “For inviting me. It was very kind of you.”

“Hey, don't mention it. You're a nice guy. I'd like to get to know you better outside the office.” The minute the words left his mouth, he regretted them. “That...came out wrong. I didn't mean to-”

“No, it's okay,” Cas said, and to Dean's satisfaction, he smiled.

Dean suddenly found himself noticing that Cas had very nice lips.

“I don't go to many parties,” Castiel continued, gazing thoughtfully around the kitchen. A few people milled about by the sink while others wandered in and out from the living room. The low buzz of conversation in here was much more tolerable than the din elsewhere. “Not that I don't enjoy them, but I'm not...well they're not exactly my forte.”

Dean chuckled. “Hey, it's fine. I think Jeff can forgive you.”

Cas winced, and it had nothing to do with the strength of his drink. “I hope so.”

“He'll be plastered by the end of the night anyway. I doubt he'll even remember you.”

“That's...comforting. What are you doing?” Dean had turned, something catching his eye, and he was digging through a box under the counter. He grinned when he pulled out a horrendously tacky party hat, and he placed it on Cas' head, snapping the elastic band against his chin. Cas glanced up at it and quirked an eyebrow.

“Now you look ready to party!” Dean laughed. 

* * *

As the night wore on the alcohol flowed, some guys from IT decided to break out a raucous game of Jenga, and it turned out that Cas wasn't bad at it at all. There was hooting and hollering loud enough to wake the dead as Cas deftly removed a block from the very bottom of the tower and held it up in victory, a huge smile on his face. Seconds later the tower came crashing down, and everybody cheered and shoved Cas amicably. Dean couldn't stop laughing for a solid ten minutes.

Around eleven, party hats and noisemakers were everywhere, adding to the noise on top of the music in the living room. Dean tried and failed to drag Cas onto the dance floor again, and instead settled for dancing like an idiot while Cas sat on the couch and watched, laughing until he was red in the face.

“Are you gonna dance or not?” Dean called as the song changed. Cas held up his hands as if to say “No,” but Dean just rolled his eyes. He was having none of it. He grabbed Cas' arm again, pulling him up. “Come on, I look like a moron.”

“So you want me to look like even more of a moron to make you look like less of one?” Cas asked.

“Well, yeah!”

Cas chuckled, but he offered little resistance as Dean pulled him through the crowd. The beat of the music was infectious, and soon, Cas began to sway. Before long, he was dancing with gusto, and Dean laughed heartily as he watched him flail and twist. The guy couldn't dance worth a damn, but hey, the vast majority of people here – including himself – were really no better, so why worry about it?

It was hilarious until Cas tripped, bringing Dean down with him – along with a good portion of the Accounting crowd, sans Jeff, this time – and he was halfway through an apology when Dean started laughing again, openly, loudly, until he thought he was going to crack a rib. He felt like a baby giraffe trying to stand for the first time as he hauled himself up and helped Cas get on his own two feet, and he was breathless and grinning from ear to ear.

“Sorry,” Cas said on a giggle, and Dean just patted him on the shoulder.

“Dude,” he said after a moment when there was a lull in the music. “You're a trip.”

About two seconds passed before the two of the broke down into hysterics. 

* * *

Ten minutes to midnight, and Dean wanted to kiss him.

He wasn't sure when the urge had started, but he supposed it had begun to bubble up around 11:30, somewhere after the dance floor incident. But the fact remained, regardless of where it had come from, that urge was starting to heat on a slow broil, and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to resist.

“Come on,” he said, taking Cas' arm and leading him to the den where a crowd was gathering around the television.

Five minutes to midnight, and Dean _really_ wanted to kiss him. The buzz of conversation around them had increased to the point where he could barely hear himself think, but he didn't need to concentrate to know that his heart raced whenever his eyes ghosted across Cas' lips.

“Hey,” he asked, nudging Cas. “You ah...you here with anyone?”

Cas shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just me.”

“That's weird.”

“Why?”

Dean shrugged. “I just...thought you'd be here with someone is all.”

“You mean a date?” Cas asked, smiling knowingly.

“Well...maybe.”

“No,” Cas said. “Nothing like that.”

Was that a hint? Dean wasn't sure. He scratched the back of his neck.

One minute to midnight, and Dean was going to kiss him.

It was a fact, no doubt about it. The countdown had started to run on the television and people were cheering and waving their noisemakers. Thirty seconds, twenty-nine, twenty-eight. They locked eyes, and Cas raised his eyebrows. Was he leaning in, or was that Cas? Somebody was, or maybe he was just woozy from all the gin.

Ten, nine, eight seconds to go. Cas' breath was hot on his lips, and somebody was _definitely_ leaning in now. Cas seemed to be looking at him questioningly, or maybe that was expectation.

Six, five, four seconds left, and there was no doubt about it. There was an inch between their mouths, maybe less. This was happening, and nothing was going to stop it.

Three, two, one, and there it was. Skin on skin, and Dean could taste the vodka on Cas' breath. At some point, Cas had grabbed Dean's collar – When had _that_ happened? – and he was pulling him closer, holding him there as he pushed his tongue boldy past Dean's teeth. Dean reached up, hooking his fingers around Cas' neck, thumbs resting against his jaw.

An off-key rendition of _Auld Lang Syne_ rose up around them, but neither of them paid any attention to it. Hell, Dean didn't even know the words anyway.

Finally, they pulled away, breathing quickly and red in the cheeks, and Cas' party hat dipped forward and fell into his face. Cas grimaced, Dean chuckled and pushed it away so that it hung off the back of Cas' neck.

“We missed the countdown,” Cas said, suddenly looking forlorn. Dean just laughed.

“Whatever,” he said. “Countdowns are so last year.”


End file.
